Home Is Where The Heart Lies
by A Damned Scientist
Summary: It's all about the hair. A collection of short stories with a common theme.
1. Space

**Home Is Where The Heart Lies**

Setting, spoilers etc. Filler. Part I: Some time between the end of OOTM and the start of LATP. Part II, TF, after Caroline comes to call at Jack's house. Yeah, I'm sorry, it's (at least in part) another TF filler. Just suck it up.

Originally posted on TF as part of SC45.

Rating: PG for crude language and metaphors.

Disclaimer: Not for profit. _Not mine. _Hence wailing and gnashing of teeth. Brian and Rockne, if you'll give FS to me, I'll give you my bike. It's a _very _nice bike.

Feedback etc always welcome.

Part I

'You look distressed, my dear. Or at least distracted,' Zhaan smiled an indulgent smile at the young, crotchety ex-Peacekeeper who was stalking round her apothecary like a caged Flibbisk. Zhaan knew that, after the incident with the Halosians, Aeryn and John had briefly enjoyed indulging their attraction for one another. But Zhaan also knew that, in the days afterwards, the young Sebacean woman had reverted to type and drawn back, seeking refuge in the emotional isolation she was more comfortable with. As she had done so, the whole crew, except perhaps D'argo, had noticed Aeryn growing increasingly irritable.

Zhaan had certainly noticed that, today, Aeryn was wearing her hair up in a tight braid, as was the style amongst the Peacekeepers. That braid warned Zhaan, and everyone else with any sense, that Aeryn's mood was grim and not inclined to entertain any nonsense, human or otherwise.

'I don't want to talk about it,' Aeryn replied. 'I get enough of that from Crichton,' she added under her breath.

'Then why…?'

'I want something for a headache,' snapped Aeryn, folding her arms and staring at the Delvian.

'How tall is this headache?' Zhaan teased.

Aeryn glowered back at her.

'Not funny,' she warned.

'Perhaps you should think about what you might do to relieve the cause of your headache?' suggested Zhaan, with a beatific, indulgent smile that irritated the already snappy Aeryn still further.

'Just give me a frelling potion,' Aeryn snarled, lowering her right arm and drumming her fingers on the stock of her holstered pulse pistol.

Zhaan rifled through one of her large open-necked bottles and pulled out something small and brown.

'Here.' She said as she handed it to Aeryn, who stared at it in open disbelief. It seemed to be a small piece of tree bark, a long way from the high-tech remedies which she had been used to as a Peacekeeper.

'Mmm hmmm. What am I supposed to do with this?'

'Chew on it for a hundred microts whenever you feel the headache.'

'And that will help?'

'With the headache: Yes. With what is causing it: No.'

'Zhaan!'

'Oh, my dear,' sighed Zhaan. 'What do you think you will achieve by hiding your true feelings for John? Apart from a headache…?'

'Feelings!' Aeryn nearly shouted. 'Feelings are weakness! Indulgence! We cannot afford such things if we are to survive.' She span on here heel and stalked back and forth in front of Zhaan, trying to walk off some nervous energy. Some might have been intimidated by the agitation that the ex-Peacekeeper was showing, but not Zhaan.

'What is survival alone if you do not live?' the priestess challenged the Peacekeeper.

'I'm warning you, Zhaan. Just drop it. You don't understand,' Aeryn stopped her pacing and glowered at her tormentor. But Zhaan was not so easily quietened.

'Don't understand that you're too scared of who you were to be who you could be?'

'Zhaan!'

'No, my child…..'

'I am not a child! And I am not your child!' Aeryn's voice was rising, nearing breaking point. She would surely be shouting soon. She slammed her hand down on Zhaan's apothecary table in her anger. The jolt knocked over a small, elaborately decorated bottle which had been on the tabletop. Aeryn stared as the oil within began to trickle out, focussing her embarrassment over her outburst on the dripping bottle rather than look Zhaan in the eye. Her anger subsided a notch, mitigated by her guilt.

Aeryn picked up and righted the bottle, getting a trace of the oils on her fingers as she did so. She fancied she caught a hint of a scent. Bringing her fingers closer to her nose, she sniffed. It smelt… pleasant.

'Zhann… what is this?'

Zhann smiled. 'Hair oil, my dear.'

'Hair oil?'

'Scented…' She grinned a wicked grin as two thoughts came to her at once. 'Apparently it makes your hair irresistible to men. Of course, I wouldn't know.' She ran her hand across her bald pate.

Aeryn laughed, if only for a microt. Zhaan was delighted to see and hear her laugh. Aeryn neither smiled nor laughed often enough for Zhaan's liking.

'Me neither: I've never used such a thing.'

'You should.'

The remains of Aeryn's smile faded and she turned away slightly. 'I don't need to encourage him any more!' she snapped, remembering the effect Zhaan had ascribed to the oil.

'Oh, dearest Aeryn,' she shook her head. 'You have done so little in this life that was just for you. Try it. Not for him. For you. A personal indulgence, if you will.'

'Personal indulgences can be ….' Aeryn began to launch into another of her Peacekeeper doctrines. Zhaan cut her off as gently as she could.

'Aeryn, dear dear Aeryn. You have beautiful hair. Peacekeeper cleansers do not do it justice. You should do this one thing for yourself. Just try it. What harm could it do?'

Aeryn shook her head. 'It is yours. I couldn't possibly.' Aeryn found another excuse not to be beholden to the Delvian. She was still uncomfortable with the idea of owing a favour to anyone, least of all a non-Sebacean.

'My dear, what use do I have for it? Here, take it. It is a gift.' Aeryn couldn't remember anyone, other than John, giving her a gift before. It made her uneasy, made her feel vulnerable.

'I.. I don't know. 'Aeryn stammered. Sensing her vulnerability, her uncertainty, Zhaan reached out and took Aeryn in her arms. To both women's' surprise, Aeryn did not resist. She just stood rigid and motionless in her discomfort until Zhaan released her.

'Take it,' Zhaan inisited, releasing Aeryn and pulling back. 'Promise me you'll try it. Something just for you.'

Aeryn pondered for a few moments, before she picked up the bottle, nodding her thanks. She'd try it. Just the once After all, what harm could that do?


	2. Erp

**Part II**

Aeryn strode through the front door of the mansion and swept through the living area with what John might have called a face like thunder. Except, of course, John was not there. Everyone who was present looked up at her passing, even the two secret service agents who happened to be there. In a microt Aeryn was gone, the sounds of her heavy boots receding up the stairs.

Chiana's jaw dropped: In recent days things had been going so well for Aeryn. That afternoon, she had even been invited round to the Crichton elder's home for some private time with his family. When Aeryn had left, after lunch, she had been so happy and excited. Frell, she had even been smiling, and the crew of Moya had seen precious little of that from her in recent monens.

Chiana stood to follow her friend, to find out what the matter was.

'Let her go,' D'argo advised in a low growl, laying his hand on Chiana's wrist.

'Frell you!' Chiana hissed, jerking her arm away, and hurried up the stairs after Aeryn. Chiana knew that D'argo thought Aeryn deserved everything that John was dishing out to her. Chiana saw things differently. She knew well enough, better than D'Argo, even, what John had gone through in the monens when Aeryn had been away on Talyn and then with the assassins. But, unlike D'Argo, she thought that, despite the pain that Aeryn had caused John, the couple would be better together than apart.

Outside Aeryn's room, Chiana stopped and pressed her ear to the door. Was that a sob she heard? She gave a single, soft knock on the door. 'Aer. You in there? You OK?'

After a couple of microts delay, Aeryn's voice came from the other side of the door, sounding huskier than usual.

'I'm fine. Go away.'

Chiana ignored the warning. Taking what she knew to be a big risk with her own safety, she pushed the door open and slipped inside, driven by worry for her friend.

Chiana found Aeryn seated on the edge of her bed, her pose rigid, staring straight ahead. Then the black veil of hair turned, revealing dark, blank, sad eyes, looking towards Chiana.

'You don't sound OK. Frell, you don't look OK.' Chiana stated, her nervous half grin trying to cover that she was trying to avoid meeting Aeryn's gaze.

'What do you want, Chiana?' Aeryn asked, her voice flat, controlled.

'N.. nothing. That is, I'm…. Look, Aer… You sure you're OK?'

The elder woman's shoulders slumped in defeat. 'No, actually. No I'm not.'

Encouraged by Aeryn's uncharacteristic admission of weakness to chance the depth of her welcome, Chiana made her way over to the bed. Aeryn didn't protest or in any other way disapprove of the approach, so Chiana risked a further approach and sat next to her friend. As she did so, Chiana noticed that Aeryn was twisting her long fingers around each other in her lap, worrying them around a small, decorated bottle, barely more than two denches long. The skin around her eyes seemed puffy and reddened. Had Aeryn Sun, badass former Peacekeeper commando and, more recently, assassin, really been crying? The Universe was surely tinked if that were true.

Aeryn seemed to look at the bottle she was holding for a few microts. 'Well, that worked well,' she muttered to herself, before looking ceilingwards.

'D.. do you want to talk..?' Chi began.

'Do I want to talk?' Aeryn echoed with a derisory snort, her tone heavy and resigned. She shook her head. 'No. Perhaps. Oh, frell it. What good would it do, anyway?'

'What'd he do this time?' Chiana asked, hazarding a sound guess as to the likely cause of her friend's distress. 'Or not do?'

Aeryn took a deep breath. She didn't want to talk. It wasn't something that came naturally to her. Besides, she couldn't see the frelling point, despite all John's encouragements over the years. Actions, not words. And besides, Chiana had not exactly proven herself to be a discrete listener. But something inside her burst, and the words just spilled out.

'It was all going so well. Jack was there, and Olivia, with John and me. We were having a good time, laughing, getting on well. It was almost like we used to have…. Then one of his old recreation partners showed up. Everything changed. I had to sit there and watch them….' Aeryn brushed a forming tear from the corner of her eye. 'It was.. It was humiliating.'

'That frelling pewnkah…' Chiana sympathized. 'Hasn't he done enough…?'

'But worse, worse is knowing that he wants to be with her, not with me.' There was another long pause. Chiana felt she had to fill it, because it seemed unlikely that the stoical ex-Peacekeeper would do so.

'Sometimes…. Sometimes people do things like that to hurt someone else. Someone they love. Like with me and Jothee. And D'Argo,' Chiana tried to explain. Her friend may have been older by several cycles, she may have known how to fight better than any of them. But she knew so little about how relationships could work, how they could be as vicious as any hand-to-hand combat.

'I thought. I thought things were getting better between us. Until she showed up.'

Chiana could scarcely believe what she was hearing, although she could picture the scene in her mind's eye. How could John treat Aeryn like that, she wondered? It had clearly affected the ex-Peacekeeper deeply. Although Aeryn hadn't said much, it was unlike her to be even that loquacious or forthcoming. She would have to have some serious words with John at the next opportunity. She hazarded a comforting arm around her friends shoulder and, to her slight surprise, was not rebuffed. Aeryn pouring her heart out, accepting a hug: it was a night of firsts all round, reflected Chiana.

After a while, sitting in companionable silence, Chiana ventured an opinion.

'You know what? You need something to cheer you up. Take your mind off that stupid fekkik.'

Chiana knew what would she would use to cheer herself up, and she went through the options in her head: A good frell? All things considered, don't even go there. Snurching? Nah, that wouldn't sit well with the whole PK-honour thing the Sebacean woman had going. Shopping? It was evening now, all the shops would be shut, even for the VIP aliens. Getting drunk and partying? Perhaps, but she couldn't see the men in the black suits helping out with that one. No she'd have to have a word with Olivia Crichton about how to go about getting Aeryn drunk on a girls' night out. No. Something more… more Aeryn seemed called for.

'Do you fancy a trip home? Up to Moya?' Chiana asked. Aeryn scarcely acknowledged the suggestion. She just played some more with the small bottle in her hands. Chiana was getting desperate. 'You, you could get all your guns out, shoot some targets?' Chiana added, more in jest than in hope. But somehow Chiana seemed to have hit on the right suggestion.

'That would be nice,' Aeryn said. She may not have actually smiled, but she seemed less glum. She wiped the back of her hand against her cheek. 'Thank you.'

'Great! Let's get going!' Chiana bounced up to her feet.

'I'll just get a few things,' Aeryn responded, sighing as she wearily got to her feet.

'Here, I'll take that, you get packing,' Chiana said, gesturing to the small vial Aeryn had been clutching. Aeryn glanced down at the bottle, then back at Chiana, She handed the bottle over and made for her bathroom. Chiana looked around her for somewhere to set the bottle down. There was a small chest of drawers beside the bed, with a lace runner and a mirror set on top. That would do.

A few microts later, Aeryn emerged from the bathroom carrying a black leather clutch bag, a Earth acquisition which Chiana had not seen before. Chiana couldn't help but wonder what the ex-Peacekeeper, with her Spartan tastes, might have in there.

'You pack light,' Chiana teased, motioning to the bag. Aeryn shrugged. It was who she was. With her free hand, Aeryn picked up her long black coat from the bed and stepped towards the door.

'Ready to go?' Aeryn asked. Chiana nodded.

The bedroom door slammed shut behind them. The bottle, precariously balanced on the lace runner, tipped over and fell on it's side, dislodging it's lid. A last trickle of oil dribbled out, soaking into the fabric of the runner. The spilt oil filled the room with it's pleasant fragrance, although there was no one now who would enjoy it.


	3. Heat Damaged and Fragile

**Heat-Damaged and Fragile**

I had a few requests to write some more to Home Is Where the Heart Lies. I don't think this is quite what those people had in mind, but this is what the muse gave me (this time). I hope you enjoy it, anyway. Fair warning: If/when I do any more in this sequence, I'm probably going to have to backtrack in the FS story arc, so I may change the chapter orders here.

Setting/Spoilers: Between WSS:FA and WSS:HTK. Filler

**Warning/Rating**: G But not a happy fic: It's not from a happy time in FS.

**Thanks:** Many thanks to pdsldl for the beta, without her input what takes place below might have been incomprehensible to readers.

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, not for profit, just for fun (still).

**Words**: 2541

**Heat-Damaged and Fragile (G)**

It was the middle of Moya's night cycle and Aeryn could not sleep, indeed she did not even want to. Since being rescued from the Scarrans, just over a day ago, she had been scared of what sleep might bring. Would it be a nightmare moulded by her recent experiences or, worse, an awakening from this more pleasant dream leading to a return to torture, and worse, at the hands of the Scarrans? Frell it all, she snarled to herself, Peacekeepers do not dream and Peacekeepers do not give in to fear. She clenched her fists in frustration and stared at the wall for a while, willing herself to overcome, but it did not help. She was not a Peacekeeper anymore.

She rolled on to her other side, gently imprisoning a gasp as she did so. Her sharp intake of breath was born of a mix of her pain from disturbing the wounds to her abdomen and her joy at seeing John nearby. He was collapsed, an arms stretch away, on a temporary cot, sleeping the deep sleep of an exhausted man. He had erected the cot between her own bed and the door to her quarters so that he would not disturb her, but seemingly had given no thought as to whether she might want to leave without disturbing him.

Aeryn decided that she needed a walk. Apart from trips to the fresher, she had not been out of her bed since returning to Moya. And before that, she had spent far too much time off her feet this last monen. Carefully, testing her abused body and anxious not to wake John, she slowly worked her way to the edge of the bed on the far side to him. Then she carefully sat up before, dench-by-dench rising to her feet. There she stood for a few microts, taking stock.

Yes, she could stand unaided, just. That was good. But she was dressed only in underwear and, after her ordeal; she found Moya's air uncomfortably cold on her skin. If she tried to dress or pull on her boots, she would surely wake John, and she didn't want to do that. She cast her eyes around her chamber, looking for any clothes she could easily put on. Hanging on one wall, unworn since Moya had left Earth, was a human garment that John had called a bath robe. Aeryn had no idea why it was called that, as it seemed totally impractical to wear such a thing in a bath. Not that they had one on Moya, anyway. But the robe was just the thing she needed.

Aeryn wrapped herself in the fluffy, white folds of the robe and, one hand on the wall to steady herself, shuffled out of her chamber. One of the three DRDs which had been lurking in the shadows of the room blinked at its companions and discretely trundled after her, leaving one yellow and one tricolour companion to watch over John.

After a few hundred microts Aeryn had to admit, even to herself, that going for a little walk alone and in the middle of the night cycle in her current state might not have been the best idea she'd ever had. Stopping every few motras to gather her resolve and strength, she decided to return to her chamber, via the apothecary, where she hoped to get something to help relieve the pain racking her abused body. And perhaps even something to help her sleep.

xxxxx

The unmistakable sound of someone moving in the corridor outside of the apothecary disturbed Sikozu from her sullen reverie, reflecting on the injustice that her shipmates had all happily deserted Scorpius, despite his invaluable help in rescuing Aeryn. Sikozu was curious as to who her visitor could be, deciding she would let whoever it was know just how she felt about their betrayal. Everyone on Moya had their own distinctive sound, the weight, tone and pattern of their footfalls, their manner of breathing and so forth, and yet she did not recognize the newcomer from the sounds they were making. She looked towards the door, curious as to whom it might be, who she was going to have her argument with. Everything made sense when she saw Aeryn, in bare feet, slowly and painfully feeling her way through the doorway.

Sikozu's previous angry, bitter reflections on the way the other Moyans had abandoned Scorpius were put aside when she saw that it was Aeryn. Sikozu did not blame the Sebacean for the acts of the others and besides, apart from Scorpius, Aeryn was the only one aboard Moya who had treated her with respect. That was probably born of their fellow status as outsiders amongst the inner circle of Crichton, D'Argo and Chiana. Beyond that, though, Sikozu counted Aeryn as the nearest thing she had to a friend, here or anywhere else. She still felt an irrational guilt at her part in allowing Aeryn to pursue the foolhardy plan which led to her capture the previous monen, and even more guilt at her own subsequent decision to give up searching for Katratzi. The latter guilt she knew she would not have felt had the fahrbot human then not actually managed, against all probability, both to find the place and, with Sikozu's help, this time, rescue the ex-Peacekeeper. However, such self-knowledge did not help now that the woman that she had given up hope of finding was standing in front of her.

Aeryn had not spotted Sikozu yet. The dark-haired woman had paused just inside the doorway and was staring at the floor, taking a deep breath whilst leaning on the door with her left arm. Sikozu slipped down from the bench on which she had been sitting.

"Hello Aeryn," Sikozu said softly, trying not to startle her visitor.

Reflexively, Aeryn's right hand shot to the top of her thigh, but it could not find what it was looking for and twitched uselessly for a microt before falling still. Whether that was because her hand found no gun or because Aeryn had recognised the Kalish and decided she was no threat. Or, indeed, it might have been for some other reason, Sikozu was not yet sure. Then Aeryn's red rimmed eyes, full of tiredness and pain but no malice, met Sikozu's concerned gaze, and Sikozu had her answer.

"Hello Sikozu. I'm glad you got away. From the Leviathan," Aeryn offered. It was the first time she had seen Sikozu since the fateful day of her capture by the Scarrans and she was genuinely glad to confirm with her own eyes that the last friendly face that she had seen that day had evaded capture by the lizards.

"So am I. You look like dren," Sikozu offered with a friendly smile which softened her words.

"You don't look so great yourself," Aeryn replied in kind with a nod. Then she narrowed her eyes as she saw something she didn't at first recognize. "Did you get that bruise during my rescue?"

Sikozu self-consciously touched the damaged skin around her eye where Chiana had punched her as Moya was escaping from the border station. "Sort of," she replied. Now was not the time for telling tales about the bruise, though, Sikozu decided: Aeryn really did look like dren, and Sikozu could well-imagine what a state, physical and mental, she must be in after her imprisonment by the Scarrans. "Let me help you," she added, moving over to take Aeryn's arm and help her walk into the room. Sikozu was nevertheless slightly surprised that Aeryn accepted her help without any physical or verbal protest, leaning into her. "What are you doing up, Aeryn? Crichton will…."

"I couldn't sleep. I thought I'd get something for the pain," Aeryn interrupted with a wince as they took another step. Sikozu was astonished. She had expected Aeryn to bite her head off with some remark about it being none of Crichton's business, but there was nothing like that in Aeryn's manner, far less her words. And, more extraordinary yet, Aeryn was admitting to physical infirmity. Sikozu knew enough of Peacekeepers, both in general and this particular example, to know that such things were almost unheard of.

"Sit down, I'll get something for you," Sikozu said as they reached a seat next to the workbench where Sikozu had been perched a few microts ago. No one else on Moya other than Sikozu, now that Scorpius was gone, appreciated the full extent of Scarran hospitality. Sikozu understood full well that Aeryn needed whatever help she would be willing to accept while she recovered from the Scarrans' ministrations. Aeryn gratefully settled into the seat with a long exhalation.

A few microts later, Sikozu returned, mixing some crushed tree bark into a beaker of water. "Here, this should help with the pain," Sikozu said as casually as she could manage. The Kalish no apothecary but wasn't convinced that the powder would be strong enough to help, bearing in mind the extent of Aeryn's injuries: however, it was all she could find for now.

As Sikozu held out the beaker and Aeryn reached out a trembling hand to take it, the Sebacean's hair tumbled across her face in an unruly mess. Sikozu moved closer to push her friend's hair back over her shoulder for her. She was surprised when her fingers got slightly tangled in the normally well-kept ebony strands. Aeryn's hair was an unkempt mess. Not surprising really: a monen of not being washed or combed and being regularly fried by Scarran heat rays would probably have left even Crichton's short fuzz in a terrible state.

"Your hair's a mess." Sikozu stated in her normal matter-of-fact manner. But of all the people on Moya, Aeryn was the one who was least likely to be offended by, and most likely to actually appreciate, such a direct, undecorated approach. Another thing they had in common, Sikozu reflected. "Since you've got back, have you….?"

"Hmm. Not exactly been a priority," broke in Aeryn with a slight shake of her head. Sikozu was grateful Aeryn had interrupted her. Now she considered it, what an embarrassingly stupid thing to have asked someone who'd just spent a month being tortured. Sikozu nodded in understanding. Given Aeryn's state when they had brought her aboard Moya and the limited time that had passed since, hairdressing would have been rather low on the list of her things to consider. But now she was recovered enough to be up and about, albeit unsteadily, Sikozu could well imagine how uncomfortable such dirty and tangled hair would soon make her feel.

"I will look at it for you while you have your drink," Sikozu said. It was a statement rather than a question, and Aeryn did not protest. As Sikozu cast her gaze around the room, looking for something like a comb, she continued with as much levity as she could summon. "You need someone used to dealing with long hair. So that would be Noranti or myself." Sikozu had found something which looked like a comb by then and she waved it in front of Aeryn, grinning as she asked, "So, which of us would you rather?"

Aeryn almost smiled and nodded her assent before Sikozu moved behind her.

"They captured Scorpius, you know?" Sikozu said quietly as she began by running her fingers carefully through Aeryn's hair, assessing the damage. It was not voiced as an accusation or challenge, merely a statement: Information that Aeryn should know.

"I… I know. John told me. I…..umm," Aeryn struggled to know what to say. She was not really sorry that the cause of so many of her own problems was gone from Moya, but she did feel some compassion for Sikozu. And besides, no matter his true motives, Scorpius had been captured in the process of rescuing her.

Sikozu shrugged in acceptance. Aeryn's words were more sympathy than she'd gotten from any other Moyan. She began a running commentary as she gently teased out the worst of the tangles and loose hairs.

"It's all such a mess… There are knots everywhere…. And it's brittle….could easily break…." Sikozu sighed. Pausing in her work, she closed her eyes for a few microts, her words making her think once again of Scorpius and what he might be going through at that very microt. "I'm not sure how to make everything better again…" she added.

Aeryn considered the matter for a few microts before swallowing hard and replying, "If things are that bad, maybe we should just get rid of the problem? One sho…. cut, and it will all be over." Sikozu paused and stared at her for a few microts. Was Aeryn still talking about hair? She couldn't be sure. The Sebacean could be so hard to read, sometimes. But if she was talking about Scorpius, Sikozu felt that was quite a harsh thing to say.

"That's one way of doing things," Sikozu harrumphed, returning to her task with vigour before pulling another mess of loose hair from the comb, tossing it on the floor for the DRDs to clear up. "But I'm sure we can manage better."

"Fine. What do you propose?" Aeryn asked, caution and unease regarding the likely reply now evident in the Sebacean's tone.

"If something is important to you, you don't want to just give up on it and let it go. A bit of patience, a bit of planning, and we can get everything back the way it should be."

"I'm not sure. I don't know if I can face all that right now," breathed Aeryn, her eyes lightly shut. Sikozu had moved round to Aeryn's side at that moment and noticed the Sebacean's expression. Could they really be thinking of the same thing, Sikozu wondered once again? She blinked and gently returned to her work. Aeryn visibly relaxed, albeit only slightly.

"You say that now, but you'll feel differently in a few days. And I'm sure Crichton will agree with me. You know it's important to him too," Sikozu blustered on, trying to assert some of her normal self-confidence.

"Hmmm," Aeryn replied, non-committally. "Perhaps not in the same way. Or for the same reasons."

"He knows too much, you know that. We can't just leave him there," Sikozu commented.

"I know," Aeryn whispered, almost inaudibly.

Sikozu continued working in silence for a few more microts.

"Well, that's the best I can do for now," Sikozu said at last, lowering the comb and stepping back to survey her handiwork. "You should try and wash it tomorrow, though. A clean start. I'll help you if you like. And we can talk to Crichton about what should be done next."

"Thank you," Aeryn replied softly.

"Come on, I'll take you back to bed," Sikozu responded, gently laying her hands on Aeryn's shoulders for a microt.

As Sikozu accompanied Aeryn back down the corridor towards her quarters, Aeryn's DRD escort followed at a discrete distance, relaying everything back to Pilot and Moya.

"I am most perplexed. I do not understand what just happened," Moya told Pilot.

"Hmmm. I really don't think that either of them were talking about hair," Pilot explained with a frown. "And that I find most worrying."

The end


	4. Understanding More

**Understanding More (G)**

**Written for a Challenge by Arevhat over on the Terra Firma board.**

Settings and Spoilers: All through S1 to PKW and afterwards. Once again, it is all about the hair.

Warnings: Tame stuff, with a mix of soppiness and angst.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Thanks: To Pdsldl for the Beta.

**1: Boundaries**

Aeryn had found the bathing chamber on her third day aboard Moya. She had heard of such things, of course, but had never seen one before. Such luxuries were implicitly forbidden to low-ranking PeaceKeepers like herself. She was fascinated and lost herself exploring the extent to which her former superiors had seemingly denied themselves no luxuries. When she finally resumed her patrol of the Leviathan, she was surprised to find that she had spent nearly an arn investigating the chamber.

The next day, having made the necessary arrangements with Pilot, she returned for a more in-depth study.

Slipping her face below the warm water, Aeryn could feel her hair billowing around her head and shoulders. She found herself trying to imagine what she might look like to someone standing over her, before the need to breath drove her back to the surface. She had scarcely ever wondered what she might look like before.

As she lay, trying to ignore the time slipping purposelessly past, she tried to ignore her pangs of guilt. She was a PeaceKeeper Officer. She had overstepped boundaries. There was no place for personal indulgences in her life. But still she remained, allowing the slowly cooling water to hold her in its embrace.

**2 Touch**

Aeryn stood in the hanger, Scorpius lurking in the shadows behind her. Heat delirium clouded her thoughts. She could not focus sufficiently even to remember how much time had passed since Pilot had told them that the others had finally found Moya. Her damp, sweat-slicked hair tumbled out of control around her face, obscuring her already fuzzy vision, as she stumbled further into the hanger. Through the distorting lens of her headache and her heat delirium, the touch of her own wet hair caused a memory to surface of when, cycles earlier, she had first found Moya's bathing chamber. How many boundaries had she broken since then, for good or ill, she wondered? Well, she'd broken some more today, that was for sure.

"Chiana, Aeryn needs help," John spat out between the gritted teeth of his anger and frustration.

Aeryn, her perceptions befuddled, could only guess that only a few microts then passed before she felt Chiana's hair, gently spiky, just like its owner, brushing against her cheek. Aeryn knew she had been home on Moya for some time, but now she could feel that the Moyans had come home to her.

**3 Guilt**

Chiana wasn't sure how long she had been curled up in the alcove in the dark cell, alone apart from the broken bioloid. She felt compelled to keep vigil over the body that looked so much like Aeryn. Nobody else seemed inclined to do so. How could she have let it happen, how could she have allowed Aeryn the chance to martyr herself back on the dead Leviathan? How could she have not even noticed that her best friend had been replaced by a…. whatever?

Chiana found herself wondering if this bioloid, this….. Aeryn had had feelings. Had it felt pain, fear… guilt for its part in the deception? Had it even known what role it was playing? Had it truly deserved death? The unknown possibilities made her shudder, and she pushed them from her mind. As though any of this would help, Chiana scolded herself. As though it would bring Aeryn back. Either of them.

Her solitude was disturbed by the soft footsteps of Sikozu entering the room and crossing to the bioloid's side. Chiana watched the Kalish without revealing her presence. What was she doing here? Chiana's own guilt was forgotten as she remembered her anger at what she saw as Sikozu's part in Aeryn's demise.

Sikozu lifted the sheet over the ruined face. Slowly, her other arm stole towards the wreckage. The arm pulled back twice, but Sikozu forced it back to its task each time until, finally, fingertips brushed the wound in a manner that seemed to border on the tender. Sikozu's expression seemed softened, in another person, Chiana would have said shocked. Guilty, maybe?

Sikozu gave a gasp, a single, sharp intake of breath, and then brushed back a few strands of the bioloid-Aeryn's hair before finally withdrawing her hand.

Sikozu lowered the shroud, bit her lip, and then strode from the room, her face back to a controlled mask, her head held high. Her behaviour was almost a reflection of how Chiana imagined that Aeryn might have acted under similar circumstances.

Chiana returned to her silent, solitary misery, never imagining that her shipmate had been grieving for not just one but two lives cut short, feeling guilty about two kindred spirits that she had been unable to protect.

**4 Trust**

As Sikozu followed Scorpius away from the others she glanced back and saw Crichton help Aeryn into the fountain. Why did she let him treat her like that? Why did Crichton now push back Aeryn's hair from her face? Surely if she wanted it done, she could do it herself? Except, of course, Aeryn's hands were occupied, clenched to her distended belly. Perhaps that was Aeryn's reason why she allowed herself to be treated so, so like a child? Sikozu frowned, trying to understand why the PeaceKeeper had so debased herself, made herself so reliant on this weak creature.

As the couple passed out of her sight, Sikozu found herself wondering what their child would have looked like, what it would have been like, had all of this not happened and it had had the chance to live? It seemed unlikely now that she or they would ever know.

**5 Hope**

Aeryn had not really appreciated the significance of her husband's request when, shortly after his return to consciousness, John had pressed her to cut a lock of the downy hair from baby D'Argo's head and to store it in her locket. The one that she had hidden John's picture inside. She had agreed in the end more in the hope that it would shut him up than anything else.

Now, mere days later, Aeryn found herself alone in her prowler, trying to fill a boring arn as she flew home. She stared out of the canopy at the stars. John and the baby were out there, somewhere in front of her, asleep in their quarters on Moya. She opened the locket and smiled down at the treasures within as she thought of her child, her life-mate, her home.

She clasped the locket tightly in her fist, a single tear welling as a wave of understanding washed over her as to how much more she had now become.


End file.
